Follows The Gift 

Tw for “it” as pronouns, dehumanization, slavery, blood (+ the drinking of blood), drugged whumpee, non-sexual nudity, power dynamics.

The summons to Rowena’s private chambers is not an uncommon occurrence for Vys. He lives to serve the Empress after all. And as nothing is more important than Her Majesty’s wishes being immediately responded to, he abandons the game of dice where he was quietly, but effectively fleecing several Ostri out of not money, but favors. His whole life is tied up in secrets and favors and the like. It’s all he will play for these days, as the Ostri have learned. If they want his ear, his favors, his close ties with the Empress, they will offer him something worth winning.

Rowena has been absent in the weeks following the securing of her prize. Nothing out of the ordinary to the eyes of the public, as she often takes time away from duties following the celebrations. However what Vys has found most peculiar is that she has found no need for him either. In fact, this summons is his first in weeks. He tries to not let that fact bother him, she has had other gifts in the past that consume her attention before the newness fades away, while he has always been a constant at her side. He will continue to be the constant- always, he is determined.

Rowena’s private living spaces are hidden deep within her palace, with a very few even knowing the path to them. Her Imperial guards, a handful of choice staff, several priestesses of only the highest order, and Vys. He takes great pride in this arrangement and also great fear, knowing the slightest misstep with any information will result in his immediate execution. It has taken him a long time to be allowed to come and go as he pleases, have his own private set of chambers in the same hidden wing as her Majesty’s, and essentially do whatever he wants as long as he remains at her immediate beck and call and whim. Like now.

He doesn't know what she’s done with the gift she was so intent on having, it's possible it’s newness has worn away and she’s tired of it already. He hopes so. He would much rather be at her side, knowing where he stands in her favor than apart and unknowing.

There’s a sharp scent lingering in the air as he approaches her chambers and an uncharacteristically low presence of guards. Vys has known Rowena to send guards away at times when she wishes to be fully undisturbed, but that fact with the combination of sharp but sweet smell that his sensitive fae senses are picking up causes him to put more swiftness into his step. 

He raps lightly at her door when he arrives, but does not wait for a response. He’s already been summoned, he knows not to keep her waiting any longer than to announce his presence. The smell only grows in his nostrils as he crosses the threshold. Blood. The iron tang in the air that makes his throat scratch. He knows it well by now, in his extensive time surrounded by Rowena and her court. Fae characteristically do not have a good history with iron. He’s wondered on more than one occasion if humans somehow developed the higher concentration of iron in their life blood over the years as a deterrent to the more predatory species that might see them as nothing more than a meal. Humans are resilient- if nothing else. 

The Gift

I’ve had the ideas of this fumbling around in my drafts for a long time now and I finally finished it. I’m glad I waited thought because I had time to think long and hard about the way in which Rowena acquired Dray and what that might look like. This is from Vys’ POV, however I might write Dray’s POV at some point too.

Tw for “it” as pronouns, dehumanization, slavery, blood, muzzles, drugged whumpee (only briefly mentioned).

“That one.”

Vysthrain’s gaze follows to where Rowena’s finger is pointing. “That one? You can’t be serious, your Majesty. That one is- looks unremarkable. If- if I may be so bold.” He catches himself at the last moment. It never bodes well to contradict the Empress. He glances at her, gauging her reaction to his blunder. However- his opinion stands. The bloodied… boy in the arena below looks one more hit away from his demise. 

Rowena laughs, a melodic sound with an edge that sends a shiver curling down Vys’ spine. She doesn’t seem bothered at his difference of opinion. “Ostra Ailmer doesn’t know what he has.”

“But you do.” It’s a statement, not a question. He can see the cogs in her head turning, that slight twitch of her lips when she’s thinking. More like scheming, his brain provides unhelpfully. 

“That I do.” She keeps her eyes trained on the man in the arena as he runs his opponent through with the short spear he wields in his hand. It’s clearly not his weapon of choice, but he’s making it work. “You see, that is a half dragon.”

Vys snorts and plucks a grape from the bunch on the table next to them. Her majesty seems to be in a light mood, a mood in which he is allowed to converse freely. Within reason. “A half dragon. I think you have had one too many glasses, your Majesty. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as male halfbreed dragons.” He pops the firm grape into his mouth and rolls it around on his tongue. “Besides, if there was, surely they would be more… impressing.” He keeps his eyes on her and away from the blood splattered sand below. 

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” Rowena sits back and smiles to herself. “You see, it’s not that there’s no such thing, it’s that they’re incredibly rare, almost unheard of and Ostra Ailmer doesn’t know just how valuable that possession is.” Her eyes narrow as she turns her attention to watching again, fingers steepled in the way she does when she’s thinking. Vys recognizes the look as that dark shimmering greed of hers. He’s seen it a few times- and knows if it’s something she truly desires, nothing will stop her until it’s in her possession. 

“And you’re going to get it, how exactly? Whether he knows what he has or not, Ailmer won’t give up a winning fighter easily.” Because- despite all odds, they were currently naming the object of Rowena’s attention the winner.

She leans over and pats his cheek like he’s a child asking a silly question. “Vys dear, when have I ever not found a way to get what I want?” It’s a rhetorical question. One that doesn’t even warrant an answer. He knows very well she has her ways. Even as Empress she can not simply demand what she wants, but there are ways.

“Sounds like you are already coming up with a wonderful plan, your Majesty.” He leans into her touch, as he knows she likes and gives her an easy smile. The heat of the day is not so unbearable to him in this moment. “Is there anything I may do to assist you in it?” If she becomes infatuated with some new object, will he be forgotten? He will never let that happen.

“Perhaps”, she says, idly watching the guards half guide, half drag the winner out of the arena. “However there might be no need for any form of coercion.” She gives him another smile. He knows all her smiles by now. This one is self satisfaction, security in her own plans, and just a hint of mirth. “My birthday will be arriving soon. And with it- gifts.”